


Why'd it Have to be You

by glowingbadger



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Angry Sex, Erotica, F/M, Lemon, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingbadger/pseuds/glowingbadger
Summary: It felt like a cruel joke for these two to be trapped together.  One way or another, sparks were going to fly.
Relationships: Lethe/Senerio | Soren
Kudos: 24





	1. Negotiations Break Down

**Author's Note:**

> This may be the slowest slow-burn I've written thus far, but these two assholes are such screwed up people, I felt I needed a lot of build-up to justify the main event. 
> 
> Lethe/Soren is also the closest to a crack pairing that I've done, but I wanted to challenge myself to write angry sex that was still fully consensual. Also Ike/Soren is boring, fight me. 
> 
> There will be a ch. 2.

_ I'd rather have died on that goddess-forsaken battlefield. _

Soren's crimson eyes crept open just enough to perceive that it was early evening, and he was being carried to the shelter of a shallow cave a few paces ahead. He'd been saved, dragged away from the frenzy of blades and spells flung across a corpse-ridden plain, dried blood caked into his robes over a deep gash across his back. Yet while his life had been spared, he was filled with dread nonetheless.

It seemed his savior had yet to notice that he'd regained some measure of consciousness. His arm had been slung across someone's shoulders, and that someone's arm held him steady across his waist. Because of this angle, when his eyes managed to open, he saw breasts. And he noticed light, breathable fabric in shades of green. And a glimpse of a tail covered in reddish-blonde fur. 

_ Lethe. _

If only he had the strength to voice the contempt he felt at this realization.

_ Just let me bleed out in peace, you mangy cat. _

The strategist had begun an impressive litany of insults in his mind by the time he was deposited on an uneven, rocky floor. His frustration kept his mind from his injuries to an extent, but this new position brought a new wave of stinging pain. Uttering a breathless gasp, Soren fought to draw in a single shaking breath and trampled his instinct to cry out. This did not keep him from noticing a derisive sigh from Lethe as she knelt beside him.

“You're conscious. And perhaps less fragile than I'd figured. Cooperate and I'll help you.” For a minute or two, the pair struggled to remove the mantle and cloak around the mage's shoulders. The fabric was blood stained and torn, but it needed to be out of the way, and it would be better than nothing as a pillow. 

Soren spoke as Lethe shoved the balled-up garment under his head, his breath ragged and shallow,

“I suppose… you'll… expect gra- gratitude…”

“I'll take my thanks from the commander,” the laguz grumbled, turning Soren's body over from his side onto his stomach, “for whatever reason, he favors you, so I'll keep you alive for his sake.” 

“Aagh!!” Soren gasped, his fists clenched tightly enough to mark his palms. Lethe had pulled the bloody cloth of his robes from the skin of his back without warning, bringing up torn flesh with it. A bitter remark died on his tongue - the mage knew that lingering on the process would only cause greater pain over a longer stretch of time. At least the furry idiot was competent enough to manage a battle wound. As he considered this, Soren resolved not to allow himself to cry out in pain even once more. 

Lethe moved with well-honed focus. She was no healer, but any soldier worth their claws ought to know the basics of medical care on the field. Prying the damp fabric from his skin, she examined the wound while retrieving an herb concoction from a pouch around her waist. It wasn't pretty- the wound had begun healing itself, but not well. Coating her hands in the laguz-made blend of oils and ground leaves, she covered the gash and surrounding flesh thoroughly and unflinchingly. It didn't look pleasant, and Lethe knew from scores of previous battles of her own exactly what kind of pain this beorc was enduring. Through her distaste for the mage, she had to admit that she was impressed that he bore it so well. 

_ His stoicism is more than mere arrogance, it seems.  _

While Lethe made this small concession in his favor, she resented the duty she'd taken on. A rambling and vitriolic monologue ran through her mind, which grasped for any distraction from being made to serve Soren- to touch him, even. Beorc were infuriating. And foolhardy. And weak. This one was no different. He was puny. His skin was pale and soft, where it wasn't sliced apart. He had none of the bulk and sineau that Laguz men had. Granted, he was fit enough to stay beside Commander Ike in battle. That was all. Just enough muscle to survive a soldier's lifestyle. Barely. 

Lethe wore a smug grimace on her face looking down at him. How had he even survived this long, looking like this? He was hardly even taller than she, and so… pretty. Very, very pretty, actually. 

“Get off.” Soren snarled, knuckles white as he clenched his fists and pushed himself up from the ground, “I'll bandage it myself.”

Lethe felt a low hiss staid in the back of her throat, anger mixing with relief from that confusing train of thought.

“No, you won't. You don't have a good angle and you'll make a mess of it.” 

The mage managed to sit upright, and he scoffed at the cat-woman's words, but flinched in pain as the air left his chest. Arguing with her would take more strength than he could afford. As such, he situated himself sitting upright, then slowly and carefully removed his outer robes, then tunic, waiting in only the close-fitted pants underneath while Lethe tore his cloak into uneven, frayed bandages. In short order, his firm but slender torso was wrapped in makeshift dressings. Getting to her feet as soon as her task was done, she tossed a small corked vial to him.

“Here- for the pain, and to speed the healing.”

“I know what a vulnerary is.” Soren said, then downed the bitter potion, and watched her make her way to the cave entrance to survey the field below them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the absence of Lethe’s hands, but he chased these thoughts away with practised ease. 

Night had fallen, and the two remained silently within their own thoughts for some time. Eventually, with an irritable sigh, the Laguz returned to where Soren sat, reviewing some of the more obscure text of his spell tome by the light of a magical flame cradled in his palm. 

“Looks like we've holed up in that old fortress, and the enemy is positioning for a seige.” 

The tactician uttered a laugh that came out more like a snort.

“Funny?”

“Predictable.” He replied with a shrug, “And pitiable. I've already briefed Ike on what to do in this exact scenario. A seige is about preparation and resources, and we have an abundance of both.”

“You sound confident.” Lethe muttered, some doubt evident in her expression. Soren brushed a stray lock of dark hair behind his ear and tilted his head to glance toward her.

“If we weren't able to take them immediately with a force this size, we'd find shelter. We find shelter, and a complacent enemy would follow. Said complacent enemy wouldn't know that I've arranged for three times the supplies that we ordinarily travel with. Meanwhile, Ike will instruct available bird-tribe Laguz to carefully patrol the area from above. Our foes see bird Laguz patrolling, and reason that this will be our gambit to send for reinforcements- then, while they watch the skies, a small team on foot slips by in the brush of the forest, where, even if spotted, it will be difficult for cavalry to follow or arrows to hit their mark.” Soren punctuated his explanation with the ‘snap’ of his book closing in his hands.

“So you're saying they'll burn through more resources than we will in the seige, and then our reinforcements overwhelm them.” Lethe's ears twitched with interest. Soren shrugged again.

“More or less.”

Violet eyes followed the stream of raven-black hair down the mage's shoulders and arms, landing lamely on the cave floor. Yes, she had saved his life today - but how many times had he saved her life without her knowledge?

“Help me take off those bandages,” she directed, kneeling beside him, “there's a small brook nearby- I'll wash and re-apply these before we rest for the night.”

Given the circumstances, it would be foolish to try to regroup with the others with the enemy forming a sea of weapons and armor between them. With healing items and a Branded's natural recovery rate, Soren would be well enough to move and fight within days, but no two fighters alone could carve through the wall of soldier's separating them from their allies. The strategist was well aware of this, but resolved to get some rest despite these abysmal circumstances while Lethe kept watch.

The Laguz meditated on the scents around her. For once, the stench of metal was far away from her, as well as that of the Beorc who carried it with them. Lethe’s senses basked in the foliage, the animals who hid from the conflict in the valley, the air that, for once, was not burdened with blood. From here, far from the torchlight that beorc used to make themselves feel safe, she could see stars. She was a soldier, certainly, but this break from the trappings of warfare was welcome refreshment. 

But, she thought with a raised eyebrow, shouldn’t she be able to smell at least one beorc?

She turned toward the mage who slept silently on the floor of the cave, near where the wall began to slope upward. Focusing for a moment, she truly couldn’t catch his scent. Her brows furrowed deeply, and she took a step closer, then another. Nothing. The evening was pleasantly temperate, but Lethe felt a chill between her shoulder blades. 

With all of the grace of a practiced hunter, she crouched down and silently pawed her way closer to Soren. The cat-woman hardly seemed to breathe when she reached him, poised and still as a statue on all fours beside him. His features were porcelain, undisturbed, yet not quite peaceful. Lowering her head with pointed ears flattened back, Lethe tried to catch the mage’s scent, her breath barely brushing his neck as she leaned in towards him. Her heart was racing, and that realization caused her chest to lurch uncomfortably. What was this man up to? What sort of magic could cause such a strange scent? 

Without thinking, she leaned in closer. Errant strands of soft black hair tickled the side of her face, but she was too focused to care. Finally, she caught something. It was subtle, unique, and undeniably appealing; not as coarse as the scent of a muscled warrior, yet not as delicate as a Heron. His scent was a puzzle, but worse, it was temptation. Lethe became aware of the heat both across her cheeks and between her legs. A little more, she told herself, just a little more of the scent. Just a little more warmth, and a little more pleasure.

Yet as it happened, Lethe was unfamiliar with how light a sleeper Soren was.

Upon reaching the faintest hint of awareness, the mage felt a body very near to his, and so kept his eyes shut and his posture relaxed as in sleep. His first thoughts were of a nighttime ambush, either at the hands of enemies from the field, or his so-called savior, but acting rashly would only cause this presumed-foe to react aggressively in kind. As moments passed in silence and Soren felt little movement but of the warm air between himself and this other figure, he began to reassess his assumptions. These sensations were too tentative, too… gentle. 

Laying on his side, it was likely he could open one eye - that closer to the ground - without detection. When he did, he immediately regretted his decision. It was indeed Lethe who hovered over him, though for what purpose, Soren could hardly fathom. The view that greeted him in the washed-out glow of moonlight certainly didn’t help him think clearly. Only inches from his face, two modest but shapely breasts strained against fabric which pushed back against them in a way that created appealing curves of flesh against flesh. Tearing his opened eye from these after a moment’s viewing, he found only more tantalizing angles. Down the path of her firm, toned stomach, then beyond the rounded curvature of her hips, the Branded’s eye focused squarely on what should be just empty air. But that open space was framed by two muscled yet womanly thighs, and worse still, the subtle swell of the mound between them. 

He felt an instant of fleeting contact at his neck, just below his ear. Some part of Lethe’s face must have brushed the smallest space of exposed skin. Her nose? Lips? Soren couldn’t tell. Every ounce of focus he could muster worked to restrain his voice and racing pulse. 

Despite himself, his lips parted, allowing a single heated breath. Lethe’s pupils dilated rapidly. With near supernatural grace, she leapt backwards, still on all fours, her gaze digging into his form. Her tail whipped back and forth anxiously behind her. Something about Soren had… shifted. His scent, his heart rate, his posture, all seemed to react. Gradually, cautiously, she relaxed. The corner of her lip twitched. How absurd, getting so jumpy over one wounded beorc. In fact, the shift she’d observed was likely just his injury troubling him in his sleep. How utterly ridiculous. 

Four days passed. Between bouts of bitter verbal sparring, the two fighters tolerated each other. Lethe hunted small game for their food, and Soren healed rapidly all the while. It was mid afternoon, and if the tactician indulged in appreciating the soothing warmth of the sun and the slight tug of a gentle breeze, he could almost forget the daunting force that separated him from Ike and the others. Yet if his thoughts strayed too far from his duties, they inevitably found their way to Lethe. No further nighttime incidents had occurred, but Soren found his mind swerving toward the memory of the softness of her breasts, the swell of her thighs, and so on. It made for an infuriating distraction. 

The tactician also felt some resentment at having spent days at a time without the comfort of his robes, requiring him to bare his upper body without any substitute for his shredded and gored clothing. Still, this did benefit his wounds, and allowed Lethe to regularly observe and treat them. Testing his body's range of motion, he rotated one arm forward, then backward, then repeated the movement with the other. As skin moved over muscle, the pull against the healing flesh on his back ached and stung; still, this pain was negligible compared to what he'd endured days earlier. He could excuse this remarkable improvement as the effects of Laguz herbs and vulneraries, but Soren recognised it for what it was: the benefits of his cursed blood. 

The first sign of Lethe’s return was her elongated shadow cast into the mouth of their cave, bloated around the shoulders by the outline of some animal carcass. Said carcass - a deer, it turned out - was deposited onto the ground just outside the cave opening with a sickening, meaty ‘thlump.’ The hunter brushed her hands off on her thighs, while Soren gave the dead animal a derisive sideways glance.

“You spoil me.” he muttered flatly. Lethe’s violet eyes rolled to the side in time with her hand moving to her hip.

“Start a fire. It'll be easier with magic.” 

“I’m not hungry.”

Lethe noticed that, as per usual, Soren’s mercenary priorities rested firmly with his own personal benefit. She also noticed that, at this angle, the swoop of his jawline created a uniquely lovely curve. But such thoughts were harder to manage than another argument.

“As if your puny appetite is the only factor,” she snarled bitterly.

“I won’t exert myself without cause.” an edge began to creep into his voice.

“Well, you’re  _ never  _ hungry.” her tone sharpened, and she plopped down cross-legged across from Soren on the cave floor, “But we’ll never get out of here if you won’t put enough meat in your frail beorc body to travel and fight.” At this, his eyes finally rose to her fiery glare, though when he spoke, his focus flickered between her line of sight and the pink, pouting lips underneath.

“If I’m so frail, then perhaps you’d like to make that fire yourself. Ought to be easy enough even for an empty-headed brute.” sneering, he cocked his head to the side, the adrenaline of the escalating argument bolstering his affected arrogance. Lethe’s upper lip curled unpleasantly, a subtle growl rumbling high in her throat. Her posture tensed, shifting into that of an adversary. Soren recognized it well, yet if anything, this would be an excellent opportunity.

“Yes, very well, attack me,” he went on, leaning back so that his hand rested inches from the spell tome wrapped in his torn cloak behind him, “I dislike lying to Ike - this way I can tell him truthfully that I acted only in retaliation when I drag you back in pieces. In fact, I’ve noticed how tense you’ve been these last few days while I’ve become healthier and stronger,” his voice dipped down near to a whisper, “Tell me, beast, do I intimidate you?”

Cat-like eyes went wide with fury. He always knew exactly what to say, and exactly what string to pull to get a reaction. It was true that he welcomed and anticipated an attack. Perhaps he’d even planned several steps beyond the first blow. But Lethe knew one thing he would not have prepared for. 

In a frenzied moment, the warrior propped herself up onto her hands and knees, and just as a single one of Soren’s fingers brushed the binding of his spellbook, her lips pressed to his with such force that he wavered backward for a moment. Lethe pushed her tongue past the mage’s lips, and she could feel his shocked intake of breath as they parted. She had guessed correctly - the strategist could never have anticipated her actions, nor the effect they had on him. Suddenly, his entire body burned and ached in a way he found both deeply distressing, and intensely thrilling. Throughout this kiss, he felt that he could hardly keep up, that he was being pulled along into something exciting but dangerous. For an instant, Lethe broke their contact, perhaps only to witness Soren’s reaction. Sneering bitterly, he whispered,

“How  _ dare  _ you.” 

Yet as the words left him, he found himself reaching for her, and pulling her back to him. A roaring wave of new sensations had enveloped the mage; the soft yet compelling movements of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the nearly imperceptible moans in her throat which he felt more than heard. For the first time he could recall, his mind was silent, dominated entirely by sensory input. He felt Lethe’s fingernails along the tender skin of his neck on their way into his long hair, the fleeting contact sending a violent shiver down his spine. As she wove her fingers into the soft black locks, her lips left his and traced a path along his jawline toward his ear. It was too much - her nails grazing the back of his neck and scalp, her teeth nipping heatedly at his ear, all making his head spin and his pulse race. Lethe wouldn’t let up, and she crawled closer to him, her breasts flush against his chest as she nibbled on his earlobe. His head tilted back, his body arched into hers, and an erotic, gasping breath escaped his lips. The Laguz pressed her advantage, whispering tauntingly into his ear,

“I’d bet you’ve never done any of this before.” 

Soren gritted his teeth,

“Never… ne-needed it…” 

“That so?” her hold on his hair tightened, tugging at him aggressively as she positioned herself straddled over his lap and looked down at him with a cocky fanged smirk, “You look pretty needy right now.”

In truth, the warrior was profoundly enjoying this view of Soren. His complexion was tinted red with frustration and arousal, and his lips, now thoroughly kissed, were full and set into a pouty snarl. As she lowered herself onto his lap, however, she just barely stifled a startled moan at the feeling of his member pressing against her inner thigh behind two layers of clothing. Her chest pounded, and she could feel her lower body heating up with needs of her own, but she had to maintain control. With both hands now tangled in his hair, she yanked him into another forceful kiss, noticing begrudgingly that he had already learned to match her pace and mirror her movements. Lethe felt his length throbbing eagerly against her lower lips and smirked into their kiss. No doubt he would soon be so desperate, he would beg to have her.

The brush of the cool air of the cave against her chest alerted her to the fact that Soren had somehow undone the tied front of her tunic without her noticing. Sliding fabric out of the way, his hands pressed against the soft flesh of her breasts, pushing them together in front of him. Each of his thumbs quickly found her nipples, which rapidly stiffened in response to his gentle, careful movements. Lethe couldn’t hold back a tiny yelp of pleasure, though she tried to camouflage it by nipping and sucking at Soren’s bottom lip. Soon though, he pulled away, still mercilessly teasing her breasts with his fingertips.

“Sensitive little kitten.” he mused, his crimson eyes leveling on hers, which couldn’t hide the intensity of the pleasure she felt. The strategist had noticed her growing arousal, even as she’d toyed with him. As subtle as she had tried to be, he had noticed Lethe slowly pressing herself against his manhood, rocking her hips to rub his hardened shaft against her warmth. Given the difference in physical strength between them, she could have her way with him if she chose to, but Soren knew that if he pushed her just right, he could have her begging for him. 

Taking care to move slowly enough to irritate Lethe, he slid his hands down her sides, traversing the curve of her waste, then the luscious swell of her hips, feeling each inch of skin through the thin fabric of her tunic. Wordlessly, he leaned forward and his hands now resting at her lower back gently demanded that she lean into him as well. Soren’s lips met one of her hardened nipples, sticking prominently out from her lovely, rounded breasts. He could feel the perky flesh pushing back against him as he sealed the erect little nub between his lips, flicking it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue. With each pass, he felt the Laguz shudder, her breath hitching in her throat as she fought to keep down her sighs of pleasure. 

“You… bastard… Hng!” Lethe’s body tensed at the sharp sensation of teeth around her vulnerable nipples. Soren, of course, felt this shift, and felt her breasts pushed even more firmly into his mouth as her arms drew in around them. Even without prior practical experience, basic anatomical understanding and a keen attention to detail served him well. The longer the tactician spent with his arms around her womanly body, listening to the gasps of breath that betrayed her arousal to him, the more he learned about how to further tame her. 

Just at the moment when she realized she couldn't take any more of Soren's teasing at her chest, Lethe felt him pull away. She knew immediately that he must mean to attempt a new strategy, and hoped that her strength would overcome his wit. He would not readily show his cards, however, and he slowly let his careful hands glide back up along her sides, then down, and up again. Next, in silence, he finished unlacing the ties of her shirt and pulled it down around her waist, exposing more of her to the evening air. When his hands found her bare skin once more, his thumbs applied some pressure, and his eyes diligently followed the curves of her fit body resisting them. The warrior felt her cheeks warming as his unfaltering gaze took in every inch of her hips, her stomach, and chest. 

"What- what in the world are you doing??" She demanded, all while the fur at the base of her tail stood on end. Soren saw an opportunity to press his advantage; he had slowly come to realize that her first kiss was likely a surprise tactic more than anything else. He had to admit, this was not a bad idea. 

The Branded met her violet eyes and, stone-faced and calm, said,

"I'm admiring your body." He paused here to let the shock of a genuine compliment do its work. As his words painted her complexion a vibrant red, he cupped her breasts in front of him, squeezing them gently and pushing them together merely to enjoy the aesthetic.

"I like these," he went on, "even if they happen to be yours." 

Lethe snarled, the fur of her ears bristling. This infuriating Beorc! She could no longer allow him leeway to taunt her like this. 

With all of her built up frustration, she seized him by the wrists and pulled him up and flush against her. Her tail whipped side to side behind her, and she lay her teeth onto the soft skin of Soren's neck.

"A-aah-!!" He gave a delicious, whimpering gasp as the feline woman rolled her tongue firmly across delicate nerves that he had never realized could feel so good. Noting that he was adequately off-balance, she released his hands, and he rather un-gracefully caught himself before he fell onto his injured back. Still, Lethe showed little mercy. She leaned against his body, supporting herself with hands on the ground behind Soren's arched, slender form, as her tongue and teeth continued to punish his fair skin. 

"A-are you… nng! Ma-marking me…?" Try as he may, Soren lacked the strength to make this question sound as indignant as he'd like, instead whispering it into her pointed ear. With half-lidded eyes, Lethe trailed her tongue along the contour of the mage's collar bone. Then, to reprimand him for the foolish question, she nipped aggressively at his bare shoulder, causing him to flinch, breathing in sharply. 

"You know nothing of how this works, so just shut up and be grateful." She growled, her heated breath deceptively gentle across Soren's neck.

"I… know enough…" he murmured, though he involuntarily arched into Lethe as she proceeded to leave a trail of bites downward along his chest, "I know that… the beast tribe mark their partners prior to coupling… mmm!" His head tilted back, as she bit an exquisitely sensitive spot near the top of his abdomen. The mage barely managed, "which means that… you intend to- to make me your mate…" 

Lethe had to get him to stop talking. Every word was carefully calculated to crawl under her skin and further his influence over her. Moving with renewed determination, her hands found the drawstring at the front of his pants. This close, her cat-like ears detected the heavy pounding of heart racing. With a playful yet cruel smirk, she tugged down his clothing with nearly enough force to tear the fabric. Once she had freed his member from the confines of his clothes, she slowly but firmly ran a single finger from top to bottom.

Damnit. He was bigger than she'd expected. Not comically so, but enough to set her lower body aching with anticipation. Her tail twitched, and her ears perked up as she examined his hardened cock, which throbbed in her hand all the while. Though she was unable to entirely conceal the hunger in her gaze, Lethe managed to maintain composure for the moment, and began stroking his length firmly and skillfully. In short order, she could see Soren's chest rise and fall with labored, panting breaths. His lips were just barely parted, allowing soft sighs and moans as she ran her hands over him, pumping his hard member base to tip, pausing to massage the head each time she met it. Finally, his witty banter had abandoned him, and Lethe had regained the upper hand.

Wearing a self-satisfied grin, she brought a hand up to her lips, lending it a bit of saliva before returning it to Soren's eager member. This new slick warmth shook the tactician's senses all over again, and for the first time, he gave an unrestrained groan of lustful pleasure. As observant as he was, he couldn't possibly know the effect this had on the Laguz, flooding her body with anxious heat, causing her to become so shamefully wet and aroused. She had to make him moan like that again. Redoubling her efforts, Lethe focussed one hand entirely on the head of his cock, squeezing the glans rhythmically. Meanwhile, her other hand joined in, searching for new weak spots. In short order, she found her stride, one hand still pulsing around the head of Soren’s rigid, twitching member, while the other squeezed the base and occasionally slid up, then down his shaft. 

Lethe felt a bit of hot pre-cum from the mage’s tip. His eyes were unfocused, half closed, and wordessly begging with her as his hips began to work his cock more firmly into her hands. It was a sight the Laguz had never even imagined possible; he was beautiful, lustful and passionate as urgent moans passed his lips again and again. As she observed him, their eyes finally met. Her pace slowed, and Soren began to catch his breath. 

“Lethe.” he spoke her name in earnest, his tone completely free of the usual scorn it carried, “Lethe, please…” 

In truth, neither of the two was certain whether this was a sincere plea, or a gambit to get what he desired. Regardless, her entire body warmed and ached at his words. Face flushed, her lower body tense and eager for him, she slowly nodded. Lethe grabbed the ragged black cloak from beside Soren and tossed it onto the cave floor, spread out so she could more comfortably position herself on it. Next, the strategist watched nearly spellbound as she fully undressed, paying exceptionally close attention when she turned away and slid her shorts down those fit, curving legs. Finally, the laguz lowered herself onto her elbows and knees, the arch of her spine presenting her backside to him, with her tail accenting its thick, feminine swell. Soren’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to move to his place directly behind her. Of course, this is how the beast tribe traditionally mate… 

“What - What’s taking you so long??” Lethe demanded, glancing back at him angrily, though her complexion still bore a charming blush. 

“Quiet.” Soren commanded, and he took his time observing as he cupped a handful of her ass, watching the erotic way her flesh pushed back against his fingers. 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ to give me orders!” Lethe snapped, even as she felt him spread the lips of her pussy and brush the tip of his cock against her, “You were begging for me mere moments ag-- oooh..! Mmm!!” 

As if he hardly even heard her, Soren began to push into her soaked lower lips, watching as her folds slowly swallowed inch by inch of his manhood. His chest pounded with a thrill of conquest unlike anything he’d ever felt before. By the time his body was flush against her, his cock burrowed as far into her warmth as he could fit, Lethe's mouth hung agape and every strand of fur on her tail stood on end. The warrior bit her lower lip in an effort to stifle her shameful, ecstatic moans, and was partially successful. Still, her body arched upward like a stretching housecat, and she could already feel her lower muscles tensing and squeezing around him.

"Damnit…" Soren grunted, shifting his hips so that his cock subtly moved inside of her, pressing against the walls of her soaking wet pussy, "is it always thi- this tight…?" He feigned annoyance, while in truth, he was enthralled by the sensation of her body massaging his member. Just as Lethe attempted a response, the mage's movements changed, pulling and thrusting into her more firmly now. Clenching the fabric of the cloak beneath her, she struggled to catch her breath and slide her legs further apart for him. Finally, she managed,

"S'your fault for… having a thick cock… hnn!" Though Soren didn't reply, she distinctly felt him twitch and swell inside of her, straining against her and hitting new sensitive spots with every thrust. At first, his pacing was awkward and unsure, but Soren learned quickly. In little time, he had observed her reactions and adjusted his movements and timing accordingly. Soon, the two had established a rhythm, their bodies moving with one another with a wild but natural passion. The mage felt the strain on his injury, but the sting of half-healed flesh couldn't distract him from these new pleasurable sensations. Lethe's moans were sweet and feminine despite herself, and each one that the strategist forced out of her made him long for the next. Yet, when the head of his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, she wouldn't make a sound; Soren quickly realized this was because she refused to utter the kind of pleasurable cry it inspired in her. Stubborn woman. 

Without fully realizing it, Soren's hand slid up the trembling curve of her ass until it met the base of her tail. At first, he meant only to move the offending appendage out of his line of sight so he could better observe his shaft plowing into her from behind. When he began to handle it, however, Lethe let out a precious, delighted little squeak. Soren's eyebrows rose and his face flushed to a deep red. What an incredible, submissive sound. To test this new information, he ran his fingernails through her fur along several inches of her tail. The Laguz caught her breath, her entire body shivered, and he felt her warmth pulse and clench around him.

"Goddess-!" Soren gasped out, slowing his thrusts for fear he may reach his climax right then. Panting softly, he paused to ensure he could keep going, then resumed his investigation. Moving his pelvis just enough to continue massaging her inner walls, Soren took the base of Lethe's tail and tugged at it- hard enough to cause just a little bit of pain. Her ears fell back against her head, and between moans, he could swear he heard some sort of purring rumble in her throat. After another tug or two, he changed tactics once more; slowly, he stroked the length of her tail, his nails grazing the skin beneath her fur all the while. Her exquisite reactions continued, each whimpering moan and involuntary twitch of her lower body sending waves of arousal through Soren's core. The power he felt over the proud fighter as his pace quickened and he thrust into her heat was a potent drug- yet in a way, the hold this pleasure had on his senses had succeeded in taming him, as well. The tactician had become a slave to Lethe's body every bit as much as she had submitted to his. 

This fact was not lost on the Laguz. She immensely resented how quickly he'd learned exactly how to move his hips, and exactly where to touch to send her sensitive body trembling. Her only solace was that she could tell his own stringent self control was slipping away from him. Still, if he didn't give in and cum soon…

"Hyaaaa-nnn!!" Lethe's frame shivered head to toe, and the pleading, lustful cries she'd tried to hold back were ripped from inside of her. With startling precision, Soren had begun to scratch the fur at the very base of her tail. At the same time, he bucked his hips against her more roughly, dragging the tip of his curving member along the back of her pussy, where he knew she was most vulnerable. Gasping and panting for breath, Lethe lowered herself so her breasts and chin rested on the cloak beneath her. The mage's skillful fingers wouldn't let up at her tail, and she couldn't keep her legs from shaking conspicuously. She had to keep herself propped up though; she needed him to keep pounding into her aching, dripping pussy. 

A new threshold of tension began to build inside of the Laguz, and her feline eyes rolled back as her face burned crimson. She was close. This stupid weakling was going to make her cum. Soon enough, even her voice betrayed her, and all she could manage were breathless whimpers amidst Soren's own low, lustful groans. Without thinking, Lethe murmured,

"Soren…! S-Soren- nnngh!!"

He felt Lethe tighten almost unbearably around him, then release. Only this intense sensation could distract him from the rush of hearing his name uttered like that- full of wants and needs, holding nothing back. With a strength he hadn't realized he could muster with his injuries, he grabbed hold of her tail and pulled her back against him, shoving his hard length as deep into her as he could. Tilting his head back and letting out his own longing moans into the air, the mage reveled in his mate's climax. Lethe's body trembled in his hands, and with a final breathless cry, she let pleasure overtake her. This, in turn, finally pushed the stoic tactician over the edge; feeling her cum around his cock, hearing her unabashedly call his name, the overwhelming mental and physical simulation of it all was too much for him to endure. 

The Laguz felt his manhood throb passionately inside of her, provoking and prolonging her orgasm. Even in the haze of her scattered thoughts, she could tell he was about to cum. However, this did not prepare her for how much she enjoyed it. The new heat she felt bursting deep inside of her, the pulsing of his cock with each shot of his orgasm, even the deviant thrill of allowing a non-laguz to mate with her- these sent her head spinning and her heart pounding. Without fully realizing it, Lethe had relaxed her legs, allowing Soren to hold her body against his until he finished. When he finally did, he gave a moan of exertion and relief, and held himself firmly within her for a moment before very slowly pulling away. 

As with when he'd entered her, Soren made sure to watch his cock sliding out of her tight lower lips. Both of their bodies bore the mixture of their cum, and he felt a shiver of arousal at the sight of his own dripping down the inside of her thigh. 

Lethe's tail twitched. She managed to catch her breath at last, then let her body fully slump down onto Soren's cloak. Turning halfway around on the ground to look up at the mage, she saw his chest still rose and fell dramatically with the strain of their mating. Her ears and eyebrows quirked up at his expression. He looked like he was struggling to process what had just happened, and if Lethe weren't doing much the same, she would have laughed. Eventually, it even occurred to her that he looked nearly perplexed, and that was an expression she had never once seen on him before. In a sort of cute, unguarded way, it was actually rather becoming. The feline gave a fanged, if still dazed grin, and muttered,

"You look ridiculous." 

"Yeah?" Soren cleared his throat and brushed back a stray section of his bangs, "so do you." 

Lethe rolled her eyes, then pushed herself up from the ground and took one more deep breath to collect herself. Soren lowered himself from a kneeling position to sit with his legs tucked under him. Neither said a word for either a few seconds or several minutes. It was still mid afternoon, but clouds had begun to gather outside the cave, so the nearby wildlife had sought out shelter. Laguz and Branded could each smell the rain to come by now. Soren absently combed his fingers through jet black hair, until he dared to break the silence.

"So, that."

"Yes." Lethe replied too hastily. Another silent moment. A little unsteady still, she rose to her feet. 

"I'm- I'm going to go wash up. Get that fire started already."

Without even a request, she grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around herself for some measure of modesty. Soren wordlessly watched her head toward the direction of the brook they had been using to keep reasonably clean these past few days. He slowly exhaled, his mind still racing yet getting nowhere at all. Shaking his head, he blinked his eyes back into full focus.

"What in the Goddess' name…" 


	2. A Continuing Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even the most stubborn of personalities could shy away from the truth of what had happened. Even less could they deny that they both wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally did not think anyone was gonna give a shit about this thing, but I got a lot more positive feedback than I expected, so here we are. Like I was honestly just writing this for my own amusement and for a bit of a personal challenge. Super rad.

An unusually quiet meal was cooked and shared, and a drizzling afternoon passed. The oppressive clouds and the rain that fell harder with every passing hour had caged Lethe and Soren within their rocky shelter. Hardly a word passed between the two, and those that did were alien and strange. Gone were the familiar jabs and insults, replaced by sparse mutterings about the weather, Soren's injuries and so on. If anything, each hoped for an opportunity to lash out- any reason to act as though nothing had changed. 

Lethe stood as near to the mouth of the cave as she could without errant raindrops dampening her ears or hair. Her appearance was of little concern of course, but she did detest the rain. Arms crossed, her entire figure drawn in, she did her best to survey the field below and gain some sort of intel on the state of the ongoing siege. Yet somehow, even while reviewing his spellbook in silence across the cave, Soren infuriated and distracted her. The moisture in the air outside trapped his scent within their shelter, and so she was surrounded by it. Try as she may to adjust to it, every time the Laguz noticed it anew, her chest pounded and her body warmed. His scent had been so subtle before. This was hugely unfair. 

A fanged tooth peaked out and chewed at her bottom lip. Charged memories of their frantic mating forced their way through the warrior's mind. The beautiful moans he uttered, his skillful fingers, the intense thrill and pressure of him thrusting into her. She could find little else to occupy her thoughts. Lethe's arms drew in closer around her. The blonde-furred tail behind her flicked back and forth irritably. 

This sudden movement caught in the corner of Soren's eye, which then followed the line of her tail, up her rounded ass and hips. He'd been staring at the same page of his spellbook for too long to admit. It hardly mattered, given he had memorized every page of the tome to the minutest detail long ago. As such, his distracted state was no detriment to his skill or studies, yet it posed an immense threat to his sanity. Scarlet eyes fixed on Lethe's body with a new-found fascination that both intrigued and intimidated the strategist. When her tail shifted, it unveiled the lovely space between her upper thighs, which tapered, then closed between the thick curves of her legs. His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose. 

_ This is patently absurd.  _

  
  


This insufferable dynamic stretched into the evening, when the two, each as prideful as they were contrarian, did their best to get what sleep they could. The pair had slept some distance from each other for the length of their entrapment, but this night saw a new threshold of what would be done to avoid one another. The feline woman curled up as tightly as she could, facing the cave opening in an effort to clear Soren’s scent from her senses and his body from her memory. He, meanwhile, faced the rocky wall, his calculating mind reciting spell words and arcane mantras, running through supply lists and siege plans that he already knew did not need to be cross-examined. Ultimately, what sleep they could get turned out to be none. 

The moment Lethe lost her patience entirely with this game was the moment she caught herself slipping a hand below the hem of her shorts. She had allowed herself one, then two strokes of a tentative finger across her aching sex, and quickly realized that she hated the release she craved. She hated it because she knew it was his fault. Stifling a resentful hiss, she pushed herself up from the ground and stationed herself once more at the mouth of the cave, standing inches from the curtain of rain outside. Somebody had to keep watch overnight after all, so she may as well put her feline sight to good use in the near total darkness surrounding them. She reprimanded her wandering thoughts until they focused in on watching the stillness of the tree-cover ahead, and the valley beyond. So intense was this focus, that she only vaguely registered the sound of Soren shifting behind her. Yet in mere moments, she felt a hand, gentle yet unabashed, slide around her waist. She managed to stifle any noise of surprise, but couldn't help breathing in sharply at his touch. Soren didn't pull her towards him; instead, she felt the warmth of his body ease around her from behind. 

"You let me sneak up on you." He said quite conversationally, though his lips drew near the crook of her neck. 

"You're not a threat." She grumbled, suddenly finding all of her focus pulled toward keeping her posture closed off, “In fact, you ought to be resting. You’re not fully healed yet.”

Soren gave no immediate reply. He was flush against her now, holding her to him as casually as though she were his own lover. Her rational mind scolded her for indulging in the sensation of his hands running along her body, up over her hips, dipping into her waist, back up to trace along the contour beneath her breasts. The nerve of this Beorc. She ought to rip herself away from him and strike him down where he stood. She really ought to. 

"If I'm no threat, then why are you so tense?" He prodded, his breath warm against Lethe's skin, "I wonder what could possibly be on your mind." 

She snarled,

"Insolent bastard-"

"Tell me to stop." He cut in, voice firm and straightforward. Lethe's first instinct was that this was a challenge. Yet his touch and his posture said something else entirely. She could sense hesitation, anticipation. No, he wasn't daring her to resist him, she realized, he was seeking her permission to continue. The subtlest hint of a blush crept across her sour expression- one which she was grateful the tactician couldn't see from his angle. Wordlessly, she raised a hand to Soren's face and trailed her fingernails up his jawline until they combed into his hair. With perhaps unnecessary force, she pulled him down to meet the sensitive spot below the ribbon around her neck. Immediately, she felt his hold on her tighten, bringing their bodies firmly together as his teeth punished the soft skin she'd granted him. 

Soren felt the low, purring vibration at the back of Lethe's throat, and barely stifled a lustful groan of his own as his core warmed with this newly discovered appetite. Her posture had opened to him, just a little. Her arms no longer protected any part of her, and in fact, one hand continued to run sharpened fingernails along his neck and scalp, while the other steadied her against the slope of the cave wall. 

"You desire me…" 

Even Lethe's superior hearing hardly detected the mage's heated whisper, and in truth, these words seemed to be only for himself. Doing her best to ignore the nagging tension between her legs, Lethe gave no reply at first. Soon however, she felt Soren's hold on her tighten, and the conspicuous pressure of his hardened member against her backside. Despite herself, she shivered, and her pointed ears angled back against her head. Yes, against all of her own wishes, she desired him, and the vivid memory of him mounting and entering her was now too compelling to ignore. 

Her head tilted back, golden hair brushing Soren's face, and she let out a nearly inaudible sigh. She allowed her body to lean into him, and intentionally pressed herself more firmly against his growing erection. Urged on by this openly favorable response, Soren dragged his tongue up the side of her neck. He was surprised at how he enjoyed the movements of her throat and jaw as she spoke,

"This is completely insane." 

"Agreed," the mage replied without pause. His hands slid under Lethe's arms and pushed her breasts together. He thoroughly enjoyed their weight, the way they pushed back into his palms. A Branded is rarely given privilege to such softness. 

"Though, some Crimean scholars see madness in refusing to act on new evidence," he went on, as slender fingers explored tender flesh until they passed over Lethe's nipples, barely protected under her tunic, "It would be insane to act as though nothing had happened at all." 

One hand occupied itself with her nipples, which stiffened eagerly at Soren's gentle touch. The other began to slide down the toned landscape of the warrior's stomach.

"That wasn't going to stop me from trying…" she muttered into the damp night air. Her defiant words soon faded into appreciative moans, however, as Soren continued to prove himself a quick learner. Lethe knew that he was reading her like one of his spell tomes. No, perhaps more like one studies an opponent. 

Her nails left angry red lines across the pale skin of Soren's neck, and she could swear she felt a rumbling groan from his lips, a sound almost like the growls that men of the Beast Tribe uttered. Until recently, Lethe never would have thought him capable of such a sound. Dexterous fingers slid into her shorts, causing her tail to twitch with excitement as his soft touch teased her. Growing ever more daring as her voice rose higher and her body pressed into him, the mage pushed two fingers between her folds, though not quite inside of her. Simultaneously, Soren squeezed one of her hard nipples and rolled it between his fingertips, while his other hand eased two digits into her, just barely. Arching in a rather cat-like way, the Laguz moaned aloud.

"D-Don't you… tease me…" 

"This may shock you to hear," he replied as both hands left her body, "but I hadn't intended to." 

Lethe turned to face him indignantly, but for the first time she had ever witnessed, his eyes expressed his intent quite plainly. The gaze that bore all of his desire so plainly silenced her harsh tongue. Indeed, he didn't wish to tease her- he wanted to have her immediately. Lavender eyes flickered down his frame, taking in the slight, graceful body of the man she'd allowed to mate with her. When her gaze reached the bulging length hidden in fitted breeches, she decided that perhaps it would be worth while to give this idiotic, scrawny Beorc what he wanted. 

"Hmph. Take these off." She demand with a scowl, and tugged once at the waistline of his pants. Lethe willfully ignored the warm blush across her face, and busied herself with undressing. Occupied as she was, she didn't notice Soren slowly run his tongue along the fingers that had entered her moments prior, sampling her taste on them. It wasn't bad. He bit his lower lip for a brief instant. It certainly wasn't bad. And neither was the thought of the warrior on her back, flush with pleasure granted by his lips and tongue. 

Such luxurious thoughts were put on hold for the time being, and the pair began to submit themselves once again to a relief that each wanted as much as they hated. Soren pushed the full length of his cock into Lethe in one slow, but powerful thrust, now determined to take his time enjoying her. Once again, Lethe had insisted on mating in the way of her kind, though this time, her body lay nearly flush to the ground atop a bed of his torn clothing. Rather than holding her hips, he steadied himself with hands on the cloak on either side of her, which the mage quickly realized allowed him to fully control the depth and pace of each thrust. Time passed spent in ecstatic pleasure, breath now taken in impassioned gasps, and for a time, banter had given way to earnest, lustful moans. This was until Soren slowed his pace, then lowered himself, supported now on his forearms. He murmured against the cat-ears he knew to be cloyingly sensitive,

"You present yourself to me in a rather submissive fashion- by Beorc standards, that is." 

Lethe scoffed, but Soren felt her warmth squeeze and tighten around him- as though argument itself had become arousing to her. He had suspected as much, and was pleased to have confirmation. Truly, he had noticed a similar pattern in himself. The more she scowled and hissed, the more his body burned with the knowledge that she wanted him. 

"Beorc know nothing of pleasure." She finally managed to retort, though her back arched upwards to push her ass more firmly against him, forcing him deeper inside. 

"Would you never face me, and mate the Beorc way?" He teased, though in truth he struggled to maintain composure while her wet inner walls rubbed the shaft of his cock and his tip pressed into her core. Lethe merely snarled in response, refusing to indulge this foolish question. Soren bucked his hips against her more forcefully, and nipped at the back of her shoulder.

"You may enjoy it," he whispered, "I could even kiss you." 

“Buh… Bastard…!” a shudder worked its way through her body, and though the Laguz did her damnedest to hold out, she felt herself about to climax around Soren’s cock. His thrusts quickened, forcing him as deep into her as he could reach, drawing out Lethe’s orgasm and pushing him towards his own. With quick precision, he grabbed onto the base of her tail and leaned into one final thrust. He felt the head of his cock hit her deepest point, and with a long, breathy moan, he released into her. Amidst the sparkling bursts of pleasure in his mind, he wondered if the squirming pressure he felt around his member could mean that Lethe had cum a second time from his rough handling of her tail. 

Soren allowed himself to remain nestled deep within her pussy for a lengthy pause even after he was spent. The heat of his own cum and the friction between their bodies was yet another novel experience for him to savor, and Lethe hardly seemed to mind. Finally, he slowly pulled away. Each took time to catch their breath, their voices the only sound save for the rain outside. 

Similar to their first coupling, Lethe eventually turned to look up at her mate. His hair was tussled out of place, and his body still bore evidence of her fingernails. She quite liked the look of those marks on him, and in a moment of unchecked thought, she imagined covering him with even more. Once again, the unreality of their actions nudged at the back of her mind. 

“Why do you hate the Laguz?” she said quite suddenly.

“What?” Soren eyed her incredulously. She sat up to face him, meeting his gaze directly. He cleared his throat, and muttered, “I should’ve assumed you’d ask eventually- though, your timing leaves something to be desired.” 

“At this point, it seems idiotic not to ask.” Lethe replied. He sighed, rubbing his temples with a thumb and forefinger. His thoughts were scattered, and he found himself either unable or unwilling to deflect the question as he normally would. Hormones, he thought begrudgingly. His scrambled body chemistry was pulling him to her. Not that she possessed the guille to take advantage of that fact. In a way, he could even admire the rather frank and straightforward way she had asked. It was refreshing. 

“During a… difficult time for me, I was near death,” Soren began, “This was in Gallia. The pride and negligence of the Gallian people nearly cost me my life.” 

He paused to consider his words. This ought to be vague enough for his comfort, but answer enough to keep Lethe from prying further. 

“That is all.” he finished lamely. Lethe got to her feet, cutting a powerful but graceful bare figure before him. With little regard for her exposed state, she began gathering her clothes into her arms as she spoke,

“If you were truly fool enough to make assumptions about large groups like that, you wouldn’t be as good a tactician as you are.” 

“Flattery, Lethe?” he shot back, careful to keep his eyes from following her. He didn’t need his fondness of her body tricking his better judgement into saying more than was necessary. 

“Only truth. Flattery is useless,” clothes in a bundle in her arms, she came to stand by Soren as he picked up and folded his cloak, “I’ve said this to Commander Ike, and you ought to know it as well- the usefulness of a blade is not impacted by its origins.”

Soren wondered if these pretty words would keep Lethe from reacting with revulsion, were she to discover his origins. A bitter smile crept across his lips.

“Yet you’ve made no secret of your distaste for Beorc.”

“I hate Beorc because they hate me.” Lethe said with practiced ease. This was a mantra she’d employed in many such conversations before, and Soren sensed the rehearsed nature of her words. 

“Then I’m sure it’s not lost on you that this conversation is pointless.” he said in a tone of finality. Lethe scowled, though she had no retort- only resentment at the nagging feeling that she had just lost an argument. Under furrowed eyebrows, violet eyes dug into Soren’s back as he took up a watchful position at the front of the cave. 

  
  


The following day brought the kind of bright, cloudless sky that took Lethe's eyes some time to adjust to; once they had, she observed the rotted old fortress that had been the scene of the siege that kept her confined here with Soren. Even at this distance, likely a two or three hour walk away, she quickly spotted members of the Hawk Tribe circling the decrepit stone walls, exactly as the strategist had described. This distraction would allow a small contingent to slip into forest cover and send for reinforcements. Once they arrived, she had no doubt that the commander's victory would be swift. 

Upon seeing this himself, Soren asserted that, given the favorable state of his injuries, clear weather, and every indication that his plan to break the siege was progressing- the two should be able to regroup with their allies in three or four days. By this time, any surviving opposition will have cleared the field, and he would be more than well enough to travel at a brisk pace. This projection was a relief. Lethe longed for a hearty meal among her own people, and Soren sullenly missed cleanliness and proper robes. 

Within those next three days, the two routinely indulged in this bizarre attraction between them. There was hardly a pattern to who initiated and when; each only knew that their respective thirsts could no longer be ignored. Sometimes, they exchanged barely more than a word or two. Other times, an argument begun prior could persist throughout the entire act. Each time, it was done in the mating style of the Laguz. Well before dawn on their final morning away from their allies, Soren kept watch and contemplated how to rectify this trend. Perhaps it was a childish, contrarian impulse- he didn't care. He wanted to watch Lethe's face as he pleasured her, and make her look him in the eye when he entered her. 

A hand brushed away a pitch-dark lock of hair from his bare shoulder and the now-familiar sting of teeth replaced it. It was a quick, sharp nip- one he knew as a signal of Lethe's appetite and a request for his services. Soren gave an encouraging sigh in response. Her hand trailed up his arm, her touch a warm contrast to the dewey morning air. 

“Are we still on track for our departure?”   
“We are.” Soren nodded. Neither felt the need to clarify aloud that, once they returned, everything would be well and truly back to normal. This had been an unspoken but well known truth since the start of whatever this was. It also meant, of course, that it was time for Soren to attempt his gambit. 

He turned to face her. Even the dimmest light of the early morning stars caught and reflected in her gaze. Soren was willing to bet that no one had ever seen those eyes like this before. He filed this visual information with everything else he'd learned about Lethe, stored in its own corner of his mind.

Meanwhile, she waited for him to make a move. She found she could only cope and reason through this by treating each intimate encounter like a duel between rivals. When he leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers, she thought for a moment that she knew his angle. After all, they hadn't kissed even once since her first surprise tactic several days ago. It seemed like an obvious ploy. But then, she felt long fingers comb into her hair, and soft palms cradling either side of her face. She inhaled sharply, but he didn't let her go. Soren tilted his head to press their lips more firmly together, but did not try to open her mouth to him. Lethe’s chest burned and ached. What was this supposed to be? Compared to everything else thus far, this kiss was chaste, and almost sweet. 

When Soren finally pulled away, his hands still lingered and the pair stood just barely parted. Finally, Lethe’s eyes opened and she realized that his had been closed as well. His touch withdrew, and the Laguz took a deep breath and straightened her back. 

“What was  _ that _ ?” she demanded, crossing her arms and consciously hardening her expression. Soren shrugged, then tossed his head to the side to shake errant strands of hair from his shoulder. 

“Mutual gratification, that’s all,” he said, and moved to untie the front of Lethe’s tunic. She swatted away his hands and finished untying it herself. Unfazed, he went on, “that’s what all of this has been about, correct?” 

Lethe met his unreadable gaze briefly, then forced her eyes down toward her clothing, the ground, anything else, really. Her tail flicked one way, then the other.

“True enough,” she finally replied, “Though I guess I’d assumed you only cared for your own… well, ‘gratification,’ as you put it.” 

Her top now fully open in the front, Lethe pulled down her sleeves. Beneath her green fabric choker, an expanse of bare shoulders and chest ended at the slackened tunic that now just barely covered her nipples. Perhaps it was this attractive view that inspired Soren to reach out to her once more. Wordlessly, he slid an arm around her waist and lowered his lips to the crook of her neck. His nose nudged her collar up her neck, and Lethe felt the pleasant sting of his teeth where it had rested- and he didn’t let up for some time. He was marking her.

“Finish undressing and lie down,” he murmured, breath hot across her skin, “I want to use my tongue to ready you this time.” 

This request took Lethe entirely by surprise. That he would offer to pleasure her in that way seemed like a decidedly subservient act. While she did finish disrobing as Soren splayed out his cloak for her as always, she couldn’t help the warmth across her cheeks, nor the erratic leaping of her heart. Did he even fully realize that this meant he would prostrate himself beneath her? That he would service her on his knees? Had his lusts finally shattered his seemingly impervious pride?

Now fully undressed, Lethe faced Soren across the cloak splayed haphazardly on the ground between them. He watched her with carefully neutral eyes, his slender figure like a printed etching in the gray pre-dawn light of the stars. His gaze never left hers, yet she could not decipher anything of meaning in his crimson stare. 

“Hmph. Well, let’s see how ‘gratifying’ you can be, then.” Lethe said as she granted his request, and positioned herself on her back. Soren followed silently, getting on all fours and pawing up atop her. Looking up at him from below nearly shook the proud warrior from her complacency, but he moved quickly, gentle hands urging her legs apart, then gliding down the curves of her inner thighs. 

It took an enormous measure of self restraint to avoid indulging in this view of Lethe- but the strategist had his mission in mind. He could not let on that humbling himself to her in this way was a gambit to get her to want what he wanted. Ignoring the insistent throbbing between his own legs, he lowered himself between hers and set to his task. Two fingers parted her outer lips, revealing the inner set and the precious, sensitive nub behind them. Moving with a confidence that contrasted his lack of experience, Soren pressed his tongue flat against her opening and dragged it firmly upward. Try as she may to hide it, he noticed how she caught her breath and tensed as he traveled upward until he nudged against the underside of her clit. Her tail twitched, her back arched, and she felt the heat of Soren's breath as he groaned against her. He doubled down, stroking her with his tongue with lips open to allow the warmth of his mouth to envelop her aching, tingling nerves. 

“Ha…! Mmmh…!!” the Laguz couldn’t hold her voice any longer, letting loose sweet, luxurious moans that set Soren’s blood boiling. With both hands, he grabbed onto her by the hips, then dipped lower to push the tip of his tongue inside of her, prodding the upper wall behind her clit. Lethe gasped aloud, pleasure painting her face an endearing pink as her eyes rolled back and her legs began to tremble. He felt her nails comb through his hair, raising goosebumps across his fair skin even as his mouth continued to explore and service her now soaked pussy. Fingers woven into midnight dark locks, she tugged him closer, and he dutifully accepted her demands. Soren's tongue pulsed rhythmically against her, until he realized that she had entirely lost control of her legs, which shook beside him, then squeezed in around his shoulders. 

_ She's so close. But she's holding out more than usual. She wants more.  _

His grip on her hips tightened, digging fingernails against her skin. His cock twitched, even ached, but the strategist silenced his own longings, promising them greater relief once he saw through his task. 

"Sor…" Lethe whimpered softly, and Soren knew his strategy had succeeded. In this subservient act, he had in truth fully tamed the warrior. His eyes rose along the landscape of her beautiful body, and when he spoke, not only his breath but his lips brushed her hardened clit. 

"My name." He said clearly, yet even as he paused for her reply, the tip of his tongue kept busy, trailing firm, wet circles around the sensitive bundle. 

"You… ho-how dare…"

"Say it." He pressed, paying no heed to her arrogant play-acting. Mercilessly, the flat of his tongue dragged along her clit, nudging and teasing it, the exquisite pressure and heat causing sparks in Lethe's mind. Gasping, panting, her head tilted back and she moaned aloud,

"So… Soren…!"

She felt him growl against her, and in the midst of flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue, he snarled,

"Louder."

"Soren-!! Aah!!" Her toes curled, her legs shook violently, "you- you bastard…! Soren, I'm cu-cumming-!!"

Even as Lethe's orgasm flooded through her trembling body, he refused to let up, sealing his lips around her clit and sucking at it hard. With a final breathless cry, he felt her tense, then relax with a shudder, her body weak and limp beneath him. 

The warrior still panted with the tension and release that had wracked her body, but Soren wasted no time. He rose atop her like a prowling beast, long hair spilling over his shoulders as he knelt over her. Leathe’s breath was the only sound to break the quiet of the now breaking dawn. In the pale golden light, diffused by morning fog and framed by the opening of the cave, the pink of her cheeks was especially charming. Soren brought a fingertip to her jaw and nudged her face to look up at him directly, though his eyes carried none of the gentle grace of his touch. He could see the realization in her expression at that moment- the knowledge that he would have her like this, and that she wanted it as much as he did. As if her words could possibly obscure this truth, she whispered,

“I hate you.” 

He knew that she meant it, though by all appearances, she looked like a woman confessing a lifetime of adoration. Fingers trailed up her jawline and into messy blonde hair, and his free hand positioned the head of his cock between her soaked folds. 

“You don’t know me well enough to hate me.” 

“I know everything that matters,” Lethe replied without hesitation, glaring up at him even as her hands fondly traced along his arms up to his shoulders. 

Soren kissed her deeply, noticing her delay in reciprocating. Once she had caught up to her surprise, however, she returned his passion with equal fervor, gladly opening her lips to him. What she could not possibly know, however, was that this kiss held in words the mage could not dare to speak, for risk of revealing too much. So his mind spoke to her while their tongues battled and he began to push his manhood into her tight warmth.

_ Hate me then, for everything you do know about me. Hate me for how I treat you, and the things I say to you. _

Her entrance was hot and soaking wet with the mixture of her cum and his own saliva. Mercifully, this allowed Soren’s cock to plow deeper into her, pushing apart her insides, tensed up by her muscular body as it clung to him. 

_ As long as you hate me for who I am, rather than what I am.  _

He felt the warrior’s sharp gasp against his lips as the tip of his member rubbed along her upper wall behind her clit until it finally met her deepest point. Their lips parted, and Lethe adjusted herself for him, spreading her thighs and shifting her tail to the side beneath her. The tactician took the opportunity to revel in his strategy’s success. Propping himself up with hands on the ground on either side of her torso, he looked down at the unfettered lust pooling in her lavender eyes, and thought briefly that this must be what it’s like to possess a lover. Her breasts rose and fell with each eager breath. She bit her lip with a fanged tooth, and glanced expectantly down over his body, then back up to his eyes. Understanding her request on intuition, Soren slowly began to roll his hips against her. 

Lethe's first soft whimper lead to another, and yet another, until her voice surrounded the pair. Her mate's own groans and sighs soon blended with hers, bitter words dissolving like sugar cubes into the heat of their passion. The Laguz had to admit that perhaps Beorc did know something of pleasure; Soren's cock was hitting a host of new sensitive spots in this position. Now, facing him, she could feel his abdomen tighten with every thrust, loose strands of hair tickling her cheek and neck, and not least of all, how his tip pressed into her deepest point again and again. Without her tail and backside in the way, she realized, he was able to push more deeply into her than ever before. In addition, while she had dreaded being forced to look him in the eye before, now she couldn't look away. His fair complexion colored with lust and exertion, crimson eyes both commanding and pleading, he was truly a lovely sight to behold. Lethe's nails scraped his shoulders. He flinched, moaned, but his gaze did not admonish her. On the contrary, the pace of his thrusts quickened somewhat, bucking against her with a rhythm that just barely gave her a second to breathe before slamming his girth in to the base once more. 

Without thinking, Lethe's thighs tightened and her legs wrapped around Soren's body. The next thrust, and the next, were far slower- deep, but painstaking and sensual. 

"Lethe…" he murmured, and lowered himself to her, his lips soft against her neck, "you're tighter… And wetter than usual," she felt his cock throbbing, straining against her insides, all but distracting her from the tender kisses he placed along her neck, down to her collar, "it feels in… incredible…" 

She expected a snide remark to follow, but it never came. Instead, he slid an arm under her arched back, holding her close as his pelvis grinded his cock into her inner walls. What was wrong with this Beorc?? Her mind reeled, even as her nails dragged along his shoulders, tangling into silky hair. She'd made her hatred for him plain, yet now he was being so intimate with her, practically making love to her. Thinking on it, no man had ever mated with her like this before, and whether she wished to admit it or not, her body felt the difference. Each burrowing thrust plunged his rock-hard length as deep as it would fit, yet he was never harsh or hurtful by any means. Rather, his rod massaged her deep inside, urging her steadily down the path to another climax. 

Among the tangled knot of Lethe's thoughts, she sensed the uneven texture of healed flesh across her mate's back beneath her wandering hands. She would not put pressure directly on his wound, of course, but distantly, she considered his remarkable recovery. This, taken alongside his scent, which even now intoxicated her, and certain odd behaviors, all pointed toward something hidden. But she meant what she had said; she knew what mattered about him. She knew he was infuriating; stubborn and cold, and needlessly callous. She knew he was brilliant and perceptive. She knew he was, surprisingly and despite herself, an excellent lover. 

Lethe’s strong legs squeezed around Soren’s hips, causing her lower body to shift and pulse around his cock as well. She was rewarded with a lustful groan, and a more forceful, insistent push into her. The head of his manhood hit her core in a way that was, for a moment, a little painful, but in truth she quite liked it. 

“Yeees…” she whimpered, her breath lost in the curtain of hair that fell to pool on the cloak beneath her. Soren gladly followed her encouragement. In truth, he wasn’t certain how much longer he could hold out. Her pussy clung tight around him, hot and slick with cum, yet squeezing and pulsing around his rod in a way that held a vice grip on his mind and instincts. This alone would be enough, but in his victory, his chance to take her as though she were truly his to have, bolstered his lust and his determination to pleasure her. Beneath him lay a Gallian Commander, cheeks tinted a delicate pink, ears flush to her head, even her soft, rounded breasts responding beautifully to his thrusts. Soren felt his cock twitch, no doubt already letting out pre-cum. No- he would not give in until she reached her own climax. He needed to feel her trembling around his member, see her eyes glaze over in ecstacy. 

He whispered her name. It took a moment’s effort, but dazed violet eyes managed to focus on his. Her gaze was dewey and distant, almost cute. The Branded pressed his lips to hers, and felt her immediately wrap her strong arms around his shoulders in response. Words were pointless now; the two knew one another’s bodies well enough to know that both were near climax. Their kiss persisted until desperate moans broke through their lips, but their bodies remained flush against one another. Sensual friction between their chests, stomachs, and joined lower bodies mixed their passion into one. 

At long last, Lethe’s sharpened nails trailed along Soren’s scalp, sending shivers through him, as her entire body tensed, and she cried out his name as the built up pleasure inside of her unwound all at once. The shaking euphoria of her climax shattered the remnants of her mate’s restraint; as if in direct response to her own orgasm, he uttered a primal, growling moan and finally released into her. Lethe’s trembling legs relaxed beside him, and she watched him with misty eyes and panting lips as he filled her with his heat. Consumed as he was with the throes of his climax, Soren forced himself to look the Laguz in the eye- to see her gladly receiving him, letting out adorable little whimpers with each throbbing wave of cum that he poured into her. Had he the presence of mind to be sure, he could swear he caught her silently mouth, “yes,” to him more than once. 

Heart pounding, lungs burning, he finally felt this dizzying pleasure begin to subside. With a tentative hand, he brushed stray bangs away from her eyes. To his stark surprise, Lethe propped herself up and planted a brief, gentle kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, relaxing once more on the ground beneath him, he realized that, for the first time he could recall, he could not read her gaze. 

Soren shelved these frustrating thoughts. Fully spent, he pulled away from her, letting the morning air cool their bodies in the space between them. Each took time to catch their breath. It took some time; neither had realized just how much they had been pushing themselves in chasing their lusts, and it felt as though each muscle had to be told to relax in turn. Outside of their shelter, birds and other wildlife had begun to wake and make their presence known in the pleasant early morning buzz. Laguz and Branded each glanced toward the cave’s opening, then back at each other. With an inaudible sigh, the latter got to his feet, albeit ungracefully, a little unsteady even now.

Neither said a word for some time. Anything that could be said, given the circumstances, didn’t need to be. Both considered checking about their plan for the day, but that was obvious- they would clean up, and walk the few hours to the fortress past the open plain before them. Both thought about clarifying their personal dynamic, but how would they even go about doing so? They hated one another. They lusted for one another. They could never let on to a single soul what had happened here. 

Smoothing his hair back into a single tie at the nape of his neck, Soren finally broke the silence, while resolutely avoiding eye contact,

“I have an… errand to run,” he said, with a bemused half-grin, “get ready to leave, but wait for my return.” 

He didn’t wait for a reply before heading out in the direction of the brook they’d used to wash up. Lethe sighed, more grumbled in fact, and set to getting her clothing together and gathering any remaining provisions. There wasn’t much- Soren both ate and slept sparsely, and any Gallean was more than self-sufficient in the wild, so they had required very little to survive. 

Once ready to depart, she turned to survey the stretching field below them, and the fort beyond. The previous day’s rain had not fully washed away the old stains of blood from the battle long passed, instead collecting and spreading it into now-dried puddles of rusty aged red. Beorc-made weapons, armor, even whole bodies remained peppered across what must have been a quite lovely landscape at one time. This sight, far from unsettling her, was altogether ordinary. Soon, she would be back on the battlefield, back to regular training, and back to the constant noise and bustle of the day to day goings-on of her comrades. The corner of her lip twisted in what may have been a smirk, had it not been so unpleasant. What would the others say if they found out that she had coupled with Soren- repeatedly and enthusiastically, at that? She could scarcely imagine their shock. Lethe brought a hand to the side of her neck, and prodded at the spot where she knew Soren had left a small, precise bite mark. It occurred to her that the collar she wore, when resting naturally, covered it perfectly. 

Feline ears picked up the mage’s footsteps long before he reached where she stood, instinctively tilting in his direction. He eventually returned, a small bundle of a moss of some sort cradled in one hand. 

“Here,” he said, shoving his hand out to her, “take this. Once we return, grind it, then boil the full contents of a standard issue vulnerary, and blend it all evenly. Drink the whole thing.” 

She hesitated, eyeing him warily, but took the plant from him, wrapped it and stored it in the leather pouch hanging by her hip. As she did, he explained,

“It’s a contraceptive, developed in the courts of Begnion. Effective, and with minimal observed side effects. Worst case, you’ll be a little nauseous for a day or two.” 

Lethe’s fur stood on end, her posture stiffened. How dare he force unknown Beorc concoctions down her throat! Of course she’d no desire for any ill consequences from her time with him- she had a military career to attend to, afterall. Not to mention that the thought of producing children for this insufferable snake of a man was enough to turn her stomach. But to make such a decision for her, without so much as a by-your-leave-!

“And you’ve decided I need this- without consulting me even once.” 

“If you want kittens that badly, go get them from someone else,” Soren’s voice rose dangerously, and he looked her in the eye at last, “my blood will  _ not  _ be passed on.” 

The sharpened edge of his tone silenced Lethe on the topic. Perhaps she had only objected to get a reaction from him, to clear the air of her attraction- but that was more of a reaction than she’d expected. More than ever, she now understood one thing: that for as much as he may hate her, for some reason of his own, he hated himself more. Silently, she watched him gather the shredded remnants of his robes, and his cloak, which he tossed carelessly over his shoulders. He started out from the cave, the morning light harsh against the dark expanse of his hair and clothing. 

“Soren,” Lethe said, moving barely a step forward. He stopped, and looked back over his shoulder. He had never heard her speak his name like this before- not in the midst of passion, and not weighted with sarcasm either. 

She took a breath, her expression like a stone wall. If she didn’t ask now, she would never have another chance.

“What are you?” she asked at last, taking another step toward him, “You heal more quickly than any Beorc I’ve known, and it’s obvious that there’s something that causes you to reject companionship. And your scent-”

“You know,” he interrupted, as he turned on her and closed the distance between them. Despite being only an inch or two taller than she, he seemed to loom over her, his gaze cold, posture like an animal warning its prey, “Mercenary types do so enjoy telling stories of their victories, bragging in the mess hall and so on,” garnet eyes traveled down, then back up the length of her body, then he leaned in, speaking deliberately, “perhaps when we return, I’ll boast of some of  _ my  _ recent conquests.” 

Brows furrowed and eyes widened, Lethe bristled visibly at this barely-veiled threat. For the briefest instant, she caught the curl of a smirk at one corner of his mouth. He seemed satisfied by his results, and turned once more to begin the walk back. A growl vibrated in the warriors throat. She instinctively flexed her claws, but staid her hand, instead drawing her posture inward with arms crossed rigidly. 

“I get it, I won’t pry,” she grumbled, and followed Soren until she fell in stride with him en route. Soon enough, they reached the outermost edge of where the recent battle had taken place. Lethe kicked the first sword she saw, knocking it loose from the dirt and sending it wobbling on a few feet forward. 

“It’s not like knowing would change anything anyway,” she said, her toe nudging the hilt of the sword once more as they passed where it had landed, “You’re a pain no matter what.” 

Triangular ears twitched upward at the sudden noise beside her. Soren had… snorted? And now appeared to be laughing, of all things. She had never heard him laugh in earnest, and wondered how many others could say they had. It was a charming laugh, though perhaps stiff from lack of use. Watching him with a blatant mix of alarm, confusion and fascination, she waited for him to say something to explain away his bizarre response. He never did. Instead, Soren’s laughter eventually died down, capped off with an awkward half-grin. He shrugged, shook his head, then set his eyes forward for the remainder of their journey back to their allies. There would be some questions to field on their return, to be certain. Once these were answered, that would be the end of it all. Things would be as they always had been. As they should continue to be. 


End file.
